


Bits and Pieces

by IAmNotGoodatthisnamingthing



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Multi, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 21:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12374202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotGoodatthisnamingthing/pseuds/IAmNotGoodatthisnamingthing
Summary: Just a collection of fic pieces about our favorite EXO characters. Open to prompts.





	Bits and Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Quite a macabre beginning, but thank you for giving this a try!
> 
> I'm starting off with a FanXing piece where Lay is an assassin and Kris is his handler.

Kris checks the address on his smartwatch before pressing his shoulder to the apartment’s rosewood door. He picks the lock in 2.5 seconds and is in, gun loaded and drawn in another 2.

Silently he sneaks across the marble floor of the empty penthouse, eyes wary for any signs of movement and ears straining to hear above the sounds of the aquarium in the foyer.

_Nothing_ , his senses inform him. _Nothing out of the ordinary_. But Kris remains cautious as he approaches the bedroom door. Reaching it, he catches the sound of someone humming from within, so he holds his breath and twists the door handle open. No sooner than the door is halfway ajar does a sharp silver knife fly towards him, and so Kris jumps, bringing his hand back.

_A scalpel_ , his brain helpfully supplies, seeing the blade embedded precisely where his hand had been a second ago. _Number 23_.

“Oh hey Kris,” a nonchalant voice greets him, and Kris sighs, miffed that he’s once again surprised by the flying blade.

He looks from the blade to the thrower who is sitting cross-legged on the ground, back turned towards Kris and humming a tune in perfect melody.

“Lay,” Kris whispers, approaching the other. “It’s time to go.”

“Already?” Lay pouts, turning to face Kris, the effect lessened by the blood splattered on his milky visage. “But I was having fun,” he adds, hand sweeping over the two maimed corpses in front of him.

Kris spares them a perfunctory gaze, just enough to ensure that the faces twisted in agony were not breathing, before focusing on the turtleneck-sporting assassin in front of him.

“Wipe down your stuff, clean your face and leave. You’ll find a purple car parked at the end of the avenue, keys taped to the front left wheel,” Kris instructs, already planning the cleanup job. “Timestamp your job, I’ll catch you _after_.”

_After the situation had been handled. After every trace of their presence had been removed. After Kris had logged in to the division, and closed the file._

Lay nods, eyes still sporting a crazed, unfocused look, before dropping the scalpels he’d been playing with, and starting to strip.

Kris focuses on the bodies, and deliberately not on the assassin, and takes photos. _Proof of the completed mission_.

By the time Lay has changed into the pizza delivery man’s outfit and walked out the door – still humming the familiar tune – Kris is deep in his zone. He wipes off Lay’s scalpels and bags them, and also bags the clothes Lay had worn – but for burning.

Then, sighing, he gets to the actual body disposal work. _Least favorite part of his job_.

-

It’s past 4am when Kris enters his pad and hears the TV blaring.

He can only sigh as he takes off his jacket and backpack and drops them near the doorway.

“You should be asleep,” he addresses the lump of blanket sitting on the couch.

“I-I couldn’t,” Lay’s face peeks out, his curly hair fanned across his forehead. “Kris, I-I can’t-”

“I know,” Kris sighs, taking off his headband and letting his hair loose. He knows, and yet he can’t let Lay verbalize it, because that would make it real. That Lay is an assassin for hire, with a kill streak that is legendary, and whose scenes never have had any trace of evidence, courtesy of his diligent handler, Kris.

He can’t have Lay say the words because he knows they’re both stuck in this world, deeply entrenched, and not of their free will. Lay is a killer machine, but with a soul that bleeds each time he has to do a job. And Kris? He’s ready to pay any price to ensure Lay’s light never dims. But it still hurts to see his love breaking apart over each new job, and Kris hates that too.

“Come here,” he says, pulling Lay into a hug, which is the only comfort he can provide. He holds the trembling body tightly against his, and rocks them both till Lay falls asleep.

Just as Kris is about to take his partner to bed, his smartwatch beeps.

_48_ , his watch reads. Which means 48 for Lay too. 48 more kills till the two of them can be free of this life, and leave.

And live. As Yixing and Yifan. Far away from all this.

_Yifan can only dream…_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> This was written and posted unedited in under an hour, so please excuse the typos ._.  
> And feel free to leave prompts [here](http://chogiwhatevertfkrisiscallednow.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comment below. ~~nothing too racy though~~  
>  I'd appreciate your feedback :)


End file.
